Partners in Crime
by HaddocksOrTails
Summary: Rookie cop Hiccup Haddock is in disguise as a club-goer, working on his first major case in Berk's infamous stripper palace, Drago's Dragon Den. And he hates it. But then a beautiful blonde dancer catches his eyes and he makes a very bold and really stupid move only to find himself in the most awkward situation of his life... (Modern Crime Story AU)
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One: ...in which Officer Haddock repels strip clubs, yet is swept off his feet by a blonde dancer**

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It had only been three minutes since Officer Hiccup Haddock sat down at the small round table of the club when the unwelcome sensation of panic started to set in. It stemmed from the lower part of his spine and it quickly rushed up towards the nape of his neck, jumping from vertebrae to vertebrae. He took a deep breath through his nose and slowly blew the air out through his teeth. He felt a little better but still debated running back home.

He tugged at the sleeves of the expensive suit. It was not something he liked to wear and he feared it showed. With shaky hands, he loosened the ridiculous bow tie that's been suffocating him ever since he put it on. He was glad that the night was still young and the place was practically empty; the wealthiest patrons' VIP-tables around the stage were all unoccupied.

He glanced at the amber-colored whiskey in front of him and he was tempted to taste it; a shot of liquid courage could have done wonders to an insecure guy like him. But it's not happening, he was working, plus the alcohol on the table cost two days' salary. For granted, it was not his money, but the _taxpayers'_, yet he'd feel guilty if he downed it in one gulp. He thought about his father, who would have appreciated the classy drink, but then he tried not to think about him because he was sitting at a strip club, for the first time in his life and it just didn't feel right.

Truth be told, nothing felt right now. It was his first undercover job, which he shouldn't mess up, but he was the worst liar ever, and being in disguise is practically a big fat lie. He tried to persuade Captain Gobber to choose someone else, he was sure that most of his fellow officers would gladly volunteer to spend a night at Berk's infamous stripper palace, but the captain didn't listen to him. Instead, he handed him a thick folder to study the case, a bundle of cash and ordered him to be at the club and snoop around without raising suspicion.

The young cop knew he had above average attention to detail and probably more logic and common sense than most of his co-workers, yet it should not be enough to qualify him for a high-risk undercover job, but Captian Gobber saw some non-existent potential in him.

He was clumsy, he got embarrassed easily and deep down in his heart he really hated weapons and violence, but the Captain looked through rose-colored glasses when it came to his young protégé. He thought of the lad as an aspiring super cop, an exemplary policeman, someone who was worthy of the legacy of Chief Haddock. The problem was, that he was not his dad, they were two different species, no matter how badly Gobber missed his former partner.

Yes, Captain Gobber was the enthusiastic uncle he never had by blood, he always wanted to guide him, to give him that _little push_ he thought the young man needed, but it was just the matter of time until he realized that he put all his trust in a complete failure. He should have stayed behind a desk in the office, where he belonged.

But Hiccup had no chance against his boss, so he put the money in his pocket, he read through the files, made some notes, rented an expensive suit and tried to persuade himself that he could do it.

The captain also ordered him to talk to Officer Ruffnut Thorston, who would provide him with some further details, but he chose not to approach her. He avoided the slim, harsh colleague like the plague and he knew he had a valid reason to do so. Her information couldn't have been that important if it wasn't in the files - he told himself.

So that was how he ended up here, in Berk's high-end strip club, where a prominent Icelandic businessman had spent his last hours before he disappeared into thin air roughly three weeks ago.

The young man ran a sweaty hand through his shaggy russet hair and tried to summarize to himself the things he had learned from the files. The dim-lit, shady place was called _Drago's Dragon Den_. It was run and owned by a _Mr. Drago Bludvist_, who had a mysterious past. Only one thing was sure about him: he came to Berk a few years ago and opened his club, which became a huge success, mostly thanks to the star of the house, _Miss Heather __Dérangé_, who was better known by her stage name, _Lady Leather_.

He shook his head trying to get rid of the awkward feelings. He didn't like this place, it dishonored women and it degraded men. It repelled him and he was intimidated by it, he was a thousand miles away from his comfort zone.

He tried to gulp down some air to get rid of the lump in his throat, but it only seemed to feed the knot that restricted his breathing. But he had to sit through three performances, preferably looking enthusiastic about them, before watching _Miss Dérangé_'s final act.

She was one of the last persons to see Mr. Alvin Enevoldsen alive and kicking, and a police informant, who went by the name "Dr. Dagur", claimed that Mr. Enevoldsen had offered a huge amount of money for her "company".

Of course, it would mean organized prostitution, which was illegal in Berk, but Dr. Dagur said that the keywords to such privileges were his very own name and '_The Champagne Room'_. It sounded really lame, so young Officer Haddock hoped he wouldn't get kicked in the butt or worse if he tried to get in it, in hope of finding some clue about the vanished man.

Suddenly, he heard some noise coming from behind him, so he turned his head nervously. The muscular man with the provocative chin tattoo, who brought him his expensive and untouched drink was now fiddling with a microphone.

He cleared his throat before announcing the first dancer on the stage, but Officer Haddock couldn't catch the absurd fantasy name. _Stormbug_, maybe? It didn't sound like a proper stripper name, but he was not familiar with the current trends in stripper names, plus, he didn't really care.

He still didn't turn his head to the stage, he was more interested in the bulky tattooed guy, who went back behind the counter to whip-up a fancy cocktail to an elderly man. The lights faded out, and the music started to play and much to his surprise, it was something he actually liked, _Be Mine, from Ofenbach_. Absent-mindedly, he started to tap the rhythm on his table's top.

All eyes turned to the stage, and he heard low murmurs coming from every dark and creepy corner of the place, even the tattooed guy stopped with the shaker in his hand and stared at this_ Stormbeetle_ or whoever she was.

The shy russet-haired officer didn't want to look, he didn't want to join the pack of drooling, hungry wolves, but it would have been weird to stay turned away from the stage when the show was on, so he moved his head, envisioning fake boobs and orange tanned skin, but…

...his jaw dropped. The girl on the stage... She was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. She had no fake tan nor enormous breasts, what's more, she didn't seem to wear any makeup at all, she didn't need it with her porcelain skin and the dark blue eyes that looked like two perfectly cut gemstones.

She was classy, which was an out of place observation since she barely had any clothes on, but her moves were elegant, she had grace and she moved like a panther while her thick braid of blonde hair floated around her like a golden rope.

He was mesmerized. By her figure. By her curves. By her uncanny flexibility. But most of all, by her golden curls. He always had a thing for blonde hair, he didn't even know why, but it was the first thing that caught his eyes when he saw someone. And she had the sweetest, most honest smile on her perfect face. It was not a forced grin, it was something that could only come from the heart. She seemed to be enjoying herself, she seemed to be laughing at her helplessly gaping audience.

His feelings hit him like avalanches. Suddenly he wanted to know her. He wanted to learn her real name, not that bugshit she was called on stage. He wanted to hear her voice, her laughter, he wanted to see her in decent clothes and a raw, well-hidden part of him also wanted to see her _without them_... Well, he guessed, his last wish would be granted soon enough...

But the song ended painfully soon, she bowed her head cheekily and left the stage followed by a chorus of frustrated moans and hisses.

Officer Haddock was a tiny bit disappointed, too, but he was relieved that the creepy patrons didn't have the chance to see her, to whistle to her, to mock her with their dirty ideas. She didn't deserve it, no woman has ever deserved it...

The tattooed man got the mic again and he introduced the next girl, but the young undercover cop couldn't care less about the new performer. He fixed the bar and he wondered whether the glorious woman would turn up to have a drink. Nah, probably she would not. If Hiccup were her, he would head home immediately, because anything could be more pleasant than a bar full of horny man. But then again, this shady Dr. Dagur suggested that the girls who worked there were more than willing to extend their work hours and gladly had some one-on-one time with the most generous bidders. She might need the money…

He decided to spit at his image the next time he caught the glimpse of himself in a mirror because of his despicable thoughts, but deep down in his heart, he knew that he would never use anyone, especially not someone in her assumingly bad situation. On the other hand, he really wanted to get in that _Champagne Room_, he had a hunch that there was something, something which was definitely more important than watching ladies wiggle and squirm on a stage.

With eyes still fixed on the bar, he touched the inside pocket of his suit jacket. There was the strap of money, a bundle of carefully folded hundred dollar bills, which Gobber gave to him, not to spend it on anything, just to 'flaunt' with it when needed. For a short moment, he wondered from where his boss got the money and he hoped it was not next month's salaries, because... yeah, most of his co-workers carried guns.

His heart skipped a beat when he spotted the mysterious beauty in the dim light. She went to the bar and got a small bottle of sparkling water from the bartender. She was wearing a crimson robe now, nothing fancy, but it looked nice on her, well… even a coal bag would have looked nice on her...

There was a huge smirk on the tattooed man's face when he handed her the drink and it was painfully obvious that he was attracted to the girl. A new lump formed in the throat of Officer Haddock, which was stupid, he couldn't be _jealous_, could he? He didn't even know her.

Still, he desperately wanted to talk to the girl before the sturdy bartender charmed her – he seemed like someone who had expertise in the field - so, Officer Haddock grabbed his drink and swallowed it in one gulp, which made him cough, but luckily, no one paid attention to him, the bartender was occupied with the blonde and the rest of the room was eagerly waiting for the next act.

Hiccup stood up and casually walked to the other end of the counter, then he cleared his throat to get the attention of the man behind the counter. The tattooed lifted his head up and noticed the boyish-looking customer. He unwillingly walked up to him.

"What can I offer you, sir?" His voice was deep and polite and Hiccup could finally read the name tag on his velvet vest. It said 'Eret', it sounded strange and unfamiliar and the young policeman suspected that it wasn't the name his mother had given him.

"Erm, yeah... Hi, Eret, I..." He stopped for a second to gather his thoughts and his courage. "Yeah. So hi. Erm. I was wondering if I could… maybe... talk to the lady in the crimson robe? I want to know her a _little better_."

It sounded more okay in his head, but it was far from disastrous, it could have been much much worse, plus he was only reciting the words that this Dagur-figure had shared with the police.

Eret, or whoever he was, looked at him suspiciously for a long moment.

"First time here?" There was nothing condescending in his question, yet it made Hiccup feel even less comfortable, but he tried his very best at staying collected.

"Yes. A friend of mine, Dr. Dagur recommended this place." This was supposed to be the key to the secret room and he really hoped that it opened the door. The bartender still looked at him with narrow eyes and it was getting a bit awkward... Then he burst out laughing and it was almost more intimidating than his stare or his silence.

"Any friend of Dr. Dagur is a friend of ours," he said joyously and for the first time in a long while, the young undercover cop felt a tiny bit relieved. "But... I don't know if Miss Stormfly is willing to... Look, Mr. ...?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry. I'm Nigel. _Nigel Fury_." He knew his undercover name sounded stupid, but in a world of Erets and Miss Stormflies, it should be acceptable, plus he was pretty sure that the bartender didn't give a flying fuck about his real name.

"Okay, Mr. Fury, just-just give me a second."

He came out from behind the counter, walked to Hiccup, grabbed his elbow and turned him around for a little more privacy. The young cop felt nervous again. At this point, anything could have happened, and he knew it all too well that he was risking the whole mission and his safety, but he had to try it, he owed Captain Gobber that much.

Eret stepped too close to him and placed a warm palm on Hiccup's scrawny shoulder. It almost felt like a friendly gesture. "So, Mr. Fury, the thing is that I don't think Miss Stormfly wants to erm... know any of our guests."

"Oh." That was all he could react, but it figured. She didn't do the Champagne Room.

"I mean... look at her," Eret grabbed his chin and turned his face towards the girl, who was calmly sitting at the counter, sipping her water and reading a book, not being bothered by her surroundings.

Eret turned his head back then let go of his chin. "She looks mind-blowing, she could be the star of this magnificent hellhole, but... she doesn't want to drop her clothes off on stage and it's not the best attitude in this business, I can tell you that."

Hiccup let out a disappointed sigh. Suddenly, Eret's strong fingers dag into his shoulder, it was almost painful. "You know, Mr. Fury, just between us, _friends_, I've been trying to talk that robe off of her for two weeks now and…"

"And?" Hiccup's voice trembled even though he only uttered one syllable.

"I can't. She is so fucking stubborn. I mean, look at me…" The young officer nodded understanding. Eret was the bulky, easy-going dapper type with a hint of a scoundrel in him that most girls found irresistible and he was just a scrawny, freckled rookie who was far too nervous to be a proper cop...

She didn't fall for the dream guy, so why on Earth would she say yes to him, the perfect opposite of perfect?

"But you know what?" Continued the bartender a few seconds later. "I kinda like you, Mr. Fury, you seem more intelligent and pleasant than the crowds we have here… Erm, I shouldn't even ask this question, but you have money, right?"

Hiccup nodded and took out the strap of notes from his pocket. He didn't want to hand over the whole bundle, but Eret greedily grabbed it from him. He let out a quiet whistle when he felt the weight of the money and he took two hundred dollar notes and shoved them into the back pocket of his pants.

"Commission fee. I'll see what I can do."

He left Hiccup and headed for the girl who was still reading quietly.

Officer Haddock suddenly started to feel dizzy, when his brain finally processed the last two minutes of his life… He tried to loosen his bow tie again, but he failed. He grabbed the edge of the counter to keep his balance, because... Jesus, that was a huge amount of money... Money that wasn't his, that he wasn't supposed to spend.

Now he wanted her to refuse his offer, but of course, it didn't necessarily mean that he would get his money back. Eret could take it in a blink of an eye and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it, because any kind of confrontation was an unnecessary risk for an undercover officer.

He looked at Miss Stormfly and Eret at the other end of the counter. The tattooed was gesturing at him while talking to her. Hiccup could not see her face clearly, but he was 99.9 percent sure that it was a no go, which it should be.

Ten seconds later he was about to leave, but he suddenly saw Eret heading towards him.

"Well, Mr. Fury, it must be your lucky night," he said with a naughty grin when he was close enough to him.

Hiccup didn't understand the bartender at first. It was anything but a lucky night, it was an awful evening and... "Oh." He grunted when he finally comprehended Eret's words.

"She will be waiting for you in the _Champagne Room_, she just needs a couple of minutes to freshen up."

As of now, Officer Haddock didn't know which counted as the bigger shock: the fact that he had just lost a huge amount of police money, or the fact that she had given him a chance. Well, technically he _bought_ his chance with that frickin' money, and he still wondered how on Earth had he dared to ask for her company. It seemed that he couldn't do anything now apart from, well, going with the flow. Splendid.

Eret went back behind the counter and Hiccup gladly accepted and drank the whiskey he poured him. Eret said he was the guest of the house, which was a good thing since he didn't have a dime left in his fancy pockets.

Then the bartender came out from behind and escorted him to a simple, wooden door that was next to the left side of the counter.

"After you," the tattooed said firmly. The young officer had no choice but to do as he had been told...

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**Have questions, want to say something, need a free hug? Find me on tumblr.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two: ...in which Officer Haddock feels awkward later joyful and finally, mortified**

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door is an average one, from the outside it looks like a closet door for cleaning supplies, but it opens to a narrow corridor. Eret looks behind them to make sure no one is paying attention to them before shutting the door. Officer Haddock walks hesitantly, but there are no options or crossroads, it's just a narrow, dimly lit passage. After taking 60 steps – yes, he is counting – he spots a massive, mahogany door with an even more massive standing in front of him. The tattooed puts a hand on his shoulder and leads him to the giant.

"Hello, Mr. Savage," he greets him joyfully. "This fine gentleman here has a rendezvous in the Room with Miss Stormfly."

The brute remains silent and Hiccup nervously swallows the polite 'Good evening' he initially wants to say; it's quite obvious that one bad move and the giant man snaps him in half and probably would use him as a toothpick after a late-night steak dinner and it's not the kind of future Officer Haddock is willing to live.

Eret turns to him now and there's a change in his voice; he drops his previous friendly tone and switches to an official-sounding one. He talks fast, it reminds the young cop of how he would quote the Miranda warning when needed.

"Dear sir, we don't have many rules here. Our beloved customers' comfort and satisfaction are of the highest importance for us, but we also want to guarantee the safety of our _damsels_. Mr. Savage guards this door. He won't let anyone disturb your meeting, but if he hears any suspicious noise, he will go inside and trust me, it's not easy to convince him otherwise if he has doubts about your good intentions."

"Of course," answers Hiccup, trying to sound neutral stuck between the two large men.

Mr. Savage moves away from the way, turns the knob, opens the door and gestures to the undercover officer to enter. He dithers for a few seconds, in some ways, what's waiting for him inside frightens him more than his current companions.

Eret pats his shoulder. "Mr. Fury. Enjoy your rendezvous."

He has no choice, he has to go in.

The room looks exquisite and luxurious. Burgundy drapes decorated with golden fringes hang from the walls, and there are pieces of antique furniture all over the place. Hiccup flinches when the door behind him closes with a loud thud. The room seems empty, so he continues with his observations.

There are four carefully carved curvy chairs, a sofa draped with crimson velvet, a dressing table with slim perfume vials on it, cabinets with richly decorated ivory insets, picturing obscene acts and a sturdy state bed with an embroidered baldachin. It's like an alluring boudoir from a 19th-century French romance novel and even though Hiccup is not an expert, he is quite sure that these are not cheap replicas.

His fascinated and hypnotized for a moment by the luscious impression the room gives him, but then he snaps out of the vivid daydream and starts to think about a more productive approach, trying to search for any clues that the room hides from the negligent observer. He debates looking under the bed, it can be a very good source of information since cleaners sometimes tend to ignore it or just lazily sweep the dirt there, but he has a weird feeling that someone is watching him.

He hears some noise coming from behind him. It sounds like a little suppressed cough and as he turns, he immediately reaches for his gun. It's a cop's reflex, and as it turns out, even bad cops can have it, but of course, he doesn't touch the well-known, rigid surface because he didn't bring it with him. He tries to disguise the awkward, suspicious move by quickly crossing his arms in front of his chest.

A slim figure emerges from behind a richly decorated screen and his jaw drops. The stunning girl from the stage unbraided her hair and now it flows free around her; the shiny curls of the golden strands lick her shoulders. She hasn't changed; the robe hangs loose on her, giving the young cop exciting glimpses of the glittery bikini and her pale flesh. He almost grins boldly when he notices the tiny freckles on her flawless skin, but he bites his lower lip instead. Huh, at least they have some tiny things in common...

She gracefully walks to him and stops when she is only a few inches from him. Then she places a hand on her hip.

"So?" Her blue eyes are piercing him like two sharp daggers, and the short word she uses as a greeting is unsettling. He takes one wobbly step back.

"I-I am..."

"I know. Mr. Fury."

He anxiously runs his sweaty fingers through his shaggy hair desperately trying to search for the right words, which simply don't come.

"Can I offer you a drink?" She asks getting bored with his slow reaction and casually walks to the dressing table. There's a fine cut crystal bottle filled with some darkish liquid and next to it two matching glasses.

He shakes his head. "No, I'm..." He almost says 'I'm on duty' but luckily, he stops before fucking everything up by revealing himself. He really shouldn't be doing this... But then he gathers his courage and clears his throat. "No, I'm fine," he states firmly.

She places the stopper back on the bottle and for reasons unknown, she doesn't drink either. He finds it curious, he has always thought it was not a way of life one could live soberly, but of course, she might have used other things...

"Have a seat, please." She tries to be polite, but there's something in her voice that makes a relatively innocent offer sound like a command. He nervously sits down on the closest velvet sofa and places a cushion on his lap. Just to be hmm... safe.

She kneels down next to him, placing her weight on her heels, looking at him with her curious, sapphire eyes. Yeah. He should say something. He really should say something... There's another moment of awful silence and he hates himself for it. He starts to nervously tap with his right leg, but a light palm lands on his thigh and stops him.

It's their first physical contact and in a way, it's calming, but the intimate nature of it is also causing some discomfort to the young man. Before coming here, in the shower, he kind of thought about _dealing with himself_ for a moment, but his crazy dog started to bark at something so his time under the warm water was cut way too short.

"So?" Her demanding voice interrupts his thoughts, but he is still clueless. Maybe he should play the chaste, clumsy, rich kid card - that's something he can at least partly relate to...

She shakes her head with a disapproving glance and stands up. She goes back to the dressing table. Her hips are swaying in a suggestive way - or maybe it is just the way she normally walks. She pours two drinks and slowly goes back to him.

"Drink it."

He knows he is not allowed to refuse it again, so he chugs it down with two huge gulps. Probably, it wasn't the wisest idea, because it's a damn strong whiskey. She must have needed that drink too because they finish at the very same time. His gaze lingers on her as she licks the residue from her lips with the tip of her pretty pink tongue.

"So, I guess Eret warned you about Savage breaking the door if he hears any suspicious noises."

He quirks an eyebrow. "He did, but I haven't done anything that..."

She starts to laugh and her giggle is the jingle of the Christmas bells, but it also makes him feel really dumb. She leans closer to his ear and her warm breath tickles his earlobe.

"Mr. Fury, this is a place where people come for sex, the quieter they are, the more suspicious it is."

She has a point, but sadly, he still doesn't know what to do or to say. She grabs his right hand suddenly, and oh boy, it can't get any more awkward, because his hands are damp with sweat. But it seems, she doesn't care about it, she just yanks it a little to make him stand up. He is facing her now and he is happy that he is at least taller than her, but unfortunately, the size difference doesn't make him braver or less dumb.

"What do you like, Mr. Fury?" Her voice is strong and it's quite obvious that she wants the brutal bodyguard to hear her. She is still holding his hand and he doesn't want to pull it away, because that's the only thing that makes him feel good at the moment.

She stands on tiptoes and their noses almost touch and at this point, he knows she could do_ anything_ to him. Whatever she wants from him, he would do it. He would be her slave for life or burn down villages for her in a blink of an eye. Well, maybe not in a blink of an eye, because he should get some flammable material first, but luckily, she doesn't want him to destroy the world for her.

"Listen, we have to go to the bed and... I dunno... make some _bed noise_," she whispers.

His eyes go wide and it's not because she has just offered to take him to the bed, but it is the first time he hears a pinch of doubt in her voice and it feels odd. What if he is not the only one who doesn't know what he is doing?

But he doesn't have time to evaluate, because she quickly spins him around and pushes his back to make him stumble towards the bed.

"I know you don't want to _do it_... but we have to make them believe you did," she says through gritted teeth, still keeping her warm palm on his back.

They reach the bed and she playfully jumps on it, enjoying how the strong springs of the mattress bounce her back. She is like a little girl on a trampoline and it's adorable even if she has a killer body with not many clothes on. She gestures towards him and he casually hops next to her, landing on his back. The bed makes a squeaky sound and she seems happy with it.

"Oh, good, I was hoping for that sound! Come on, let's make some noise." Her enthusiastic whisper is quite confusing, but he starts to play along. At least they are doing something other than awkwardly staring at each other.

But the whole situation is really confusing so he stops moving and sits up leaning closer to her face. "Look, I don't know about that noise, but I..." She lifts her index finger and presses it to his mouth to make him stop talking.

"Listen, I know you don't want to fuck me."

He hesitates with his answer trying to figure out why on Earth she thinks that he is not here to have sex with her. He asked for her. He paid for her. Does he seem so obviously lost like he actually is? Of course, she is absolutely right, but she shouldn't be...

Okay, so now he has to come up with a reasonable explanation for not wanting her. She misunderstands his silence, her eyes go wide and she almost seems frightened.

"Or... do you?" She asks, sounding a little shocked.

He is flabbergasted, too, but only for a quick second. "What? No, no, of course, I don't."

"Of course you don't?!" Her voice has a resentful tone as if his lack of interest would be an insult and he knows has to come clean. Or at least a wee bit cleaner. He doesn't know why, but he leans a little closer to her - probably because it feels more confident this way.

"Look... Miss Stormfly, I just... huh, I just wanted to know you a little better. That's... all it is, I swear."

"That's not why people come here." There's that accusing tone in her voice again, and he really doesn't like it. It makes him feel agitated, nervous.

"You know what? Probably it's one of those Pretty Woman stories. I came in, I saw you and I... eh... felt like I wanted to talk to you."

"Problem is that you paid 2,000 dollars for it." A jolt of pain runs through his guts when she reminds him of the money. He really doesn't want to think about it until he has to. Tomorrow morning... He shakes his head as if it could help to erase the image of Gobber asking about the whereabouts of the dough he had given him...

"Maybe I'm richer than Croesus," he says and he sounds cocky, which is really not the best attitude in his current situation, but he feels that his pride was hurt.

She grabs his wrist again. "Okay... If you're rich than the legendary king of Lydia... Oh, spare me that look, just because I'm a stripper it doesn't mean I can't be a well-educated stripper."

She gives him the evil eye and he hangs his head. "Sorry about assuming that..." He feels guilty, but he is also relieved. Everyone always teases him about his vast knowledge of ancient histories and myths and now he has met someone who understands his reference. Strange place to meet another history enthusiast, though.

She lifts his hand higher and looks at the Rolex he is wearing. "But there's must be some truth to what you are saying. I assume it wasn't King Midas who had turned your toy watch into gold…" She hesitates and a cunning smirk draws on her face. "What if I told you that you could do anything or _everything_ to me if I can keep your fancy wrist bling-bling?"

He yanks his hand away as fast as he can, away from her burning touch. She laughs. She laughs at him and it hurts. "I knew it!" She exclaims confidently, still giggling, "I knew it wasn't yours!"

He doesn't say anything in his defense. He took the watch from his father's drawer to... He doesn't even know why he took it; he probably thought it might come handy with his 'well-off kid' disguise. And of course, he was planning on put it back as soon as it was possible, even though he knew his father wouldn't notice (or care) if one of his expensive watches was gone.

"You should consider a career change, you would make an excellent detective, Miss. Marple," he says dryly.

She is definitely amused while she kneels up on the bed; the springs are squeaking suggestively under her as she moves.

"So this - and I'm gesturing to all of you - is not you," she continues with her observations.

He presses his lips together and doesn't comment. She rolls her eyes. "Alright, knucklehead, don't say a word, but we still have to get out of this situation without having our bones broken..."

She gets on all fours and lifts her robe from her perfect ass. Hiccup's eyes go wide, he chokes and coughs. Sure, she still wears her bikini, but it barely covers anything. He is awestruck, but suddenly a loud slap wakes him up from his oddly realistic daydream. And then she slaps her butt again. "Oh, Mr. Fury, this feeeeels sooo good!" She repeatedly slaps herself and shouts various words of pleasure. He is petrified. She doesn't stop with the distracting slaps but looks at him angrily.

"Play along, idiot," she hisses.

"But how...?"

"Just jump on the stupid bed and scream whatever you scream when your girlfriend peels the skin of your back."

He takes a deep breath. He has no back-ravaging girlfriend, but he gets the concept, so he kneels up behind her and starts to move. It's kind of funny how the bed creaks with every move and she turns her head to him and flashes an encouraging smile and he starts to be a little braver.

"Shit, you are beautiful..." It's not difficult to say it out loud, because it happens to be true. But he loses his balance and grabs her butt with two hands, stupid reflexes. She immediately turns and grabs his shoulders and he is suddenly on his back, with her on top of him. An earnest grunt leaves his mouth.

"Do you mind if I take control?" She asks, mocking him in a lustful tone. Boy, she is strong... but she is a bit too full of herself and he doesn't necessarily want to teach her a lesson, but he has to, because one, her bikini butt is uncomfortably close to the most sensitive part of his body and two, he is not bad at judo... He lifts his pelvis and twists it and now it's her turn to lose balance and fall on her back with a loud moan. The bed under them squeaks nicely. They both put their hands on their mouths to mute their giggles.

"Okay, woman, you want to wrestle?" He says joyfully and tries to pin her hands down. But she fights back. The bed is getting really loud under them and the grapple - which is simultaneously playful and dead-serious - makes them pant and groan. It's perfect. A few minutes later they lie next to each other, on their backs, out of breath.

They turn their heads to each other at the very same time and they are both grinning.

"_Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia's greatest love machine,_" she sings quietly, teasing him.

"Nah, I'm nowhere near as charismatic. Or mean." He still smiles and the weight of the world seems lighter. He enjoys their silly banter.

"Then hopefully your D won't end up in a wooden casket..."

He lets out a laugh. "That wasn't his D, it was..."

"A sea cucumber, I know," she interrupts him and playfully tousles his hair.

* * *

He wakes up relatively easy, thanks for his enthusiastic organic alarm clock, also known as his beloved dog, and he may or may not had a big smile on his face while he was in dreamland...

He arrives at work way before the others, because he has to somehow write a report about last night and figure out how to get the 2,000 dollars back. At the moment, both seem like an unreachable goal, but he turns on his computer and starts to type. It's a lot less complicated than he thought it would be and he knows he can provide valuable information, he just needs to leave out a few details.

He is very observant, he notices more details than most people and it's quite handy in this profession. His colleagues respect him for that and it probably makes him a tiny bit qualified for this job.

Unfortunately, an hour later the office starts to fill up with buzzing people and it soon gives him the headaches. He opens his drawer and hopes to find some ibuprofen under the not-so-neatly-organized piles of paper. He lets out a painful sigh of relief when his fingers lace around the plastic pill bottle.

He rubs his eyes with the heel of his free right hand while his left hand opens the bottle. He pops in the pill with eyes closed; he chews on it and he grimaces when he feels the medicine's bitter taste.

He takes a deep breath before opening his eyes. He thinks he is saved for the moment... except, eh, he is not. He spots Captain Gobber. He seems to be in a good mood, because he is laughing with his lanky secretary, playfully hitting her arm with the folder he is holding in his healthy hand. His other hand is a prosthetic. It is a sad memento of a war he had fought against a gang of thugs, known as the Boneknappers. It earned him a Law Enforcement Purple Heart, but… the young cop is not sure it is something worth fighting for.

Also, the sight of the slim secretary worsens his mood. At this point, they aren't exactly on good terms. Yeah, Ruff is… well, was a little rough on him - to say the least. When he started working at the office a couple of months ago she immediately had a crush on him.

Like most men, he is not very good at noticing the subtles hint of the females, but Ruff wasn't exactly modest when it came to showing her affection. The first time she grabbed his ass in front of their co-workers was simply annoying (and not just because he wasn't attracted to her), but after the fifth time, it became unbearable. And then was that fateful office party when she... a jolt of pain rushes through his head and he grunts in agony.

Suddenly, Gobber notices him. He waves at him with the folder in his hand and the young cop buries his face in his palms. There's no way he can get out of this situation without being humiliated in front of an office full of people. His boss walks up to his desk, puts down the folder before holding out a big hand uncomfortably close to his contorted face. "Papa needs his cash, Hiccup."

He lets out a deep sigh but stubbornly keeps staring at his tabletop instead of looking into his boss's eyes.

"Yeah, about that..." He has no time to finish his answer; slim fingers appear out of nowhere and place a plastic bag full of money in Gobber's palm. "There you go, Captain."

Hiccup doesn't dare to look up, there's no way in Hell this could be real... He knows this voice and... no. It's not happening.

"Two benjamins are missing," continues the familiar voice, "but Officer Haddock had expenses."

Okay. This must be some kind of sick joke. He turns his throbbing head towards the source of the voice and...

"Oh, good," says Gobber and shoves the bag inside the back pocket of his pants. "Hah, I wasn't sure ye were properly introduced to each other."

Hiccup clears his throat and stands up. He knows his face must be purple as beetroot and he knows his voice will probably tremble, but he feels he has to say something. "As a matter of fact, we weren't."

He looks into the sapphire eyes in front of him; they seem a shade lighter in daylight.

"Oh, look at my manners, lad. Well, allow me to introduce ye yer new partner, Officer Astrid Hofferson."

* * *

**Thanks for the comments and favs/follows, the next chapter will be up next Thursday. **


	3. Chapter 3

**Well, Thursday arrived early this week, I forgot that I have some volunteer work to do tomorrow and won't be able to post it.**

**Chapter Three: ...in which two old geezers fire up the grill and everyone is a dog person**

* * *

**TWO WEEKS EARLIER**

It's probably a bit early to fire up the grill outside but the chilly blows of the end-of-March winds have never been enough to frighten away the two well-built men from their favorite pastime activity. They stand under the sturdy roof of the large patio, close to the fire, in thick windbreakers already drooling over the half-cooked sausages. In order to feel a little warmer, Captain Gobber pours hot grog from the vacuum flask he is holding into two metal cups and crown prosecutor Stoick Haddock cheerfully grabs his drink. They simultaneously lift and clink the cups, say 'cheers' and gulp down the heartwarmers.

Stoick wipes his thick beard with the back of his hand and clears his throat.

"So… how is everything?"

"At work? Ye mean the _Enevoldsen-case_?" Asks back Gobber before refilling their cups.

Stoick turns the sausages with the tong before answering a short 'aye'.

"Well, I still have my doubts... I think something has happened to him at the strip club."

"But he was captured on CCTV at the Berk Four Seasons. Multiple times," protests Stoick. He grabs a roll of tinfoil and starts to wrap potatoes in it. The raw hamburger patties are already on a plate, only seasoned with salt and pepper, patiently waiting for their inevitable fate on the fire.

Gobber drinks the second shot of the grog and scrunchies his nose. "But ye can't see his face on the footage, because of that flamboyant purple hat he is wearing. I tell ye what, Stoick, when I think of a businessman, I never think of _Liberace_."

Stoick giggles then turns his attention to the sausages again. Both men swallow hard when the delicious smell hits their nostrils.

"He is an exhibitionist, there's nothing wrong with that. Besides, it's easier to recognize him," he claims but Gobber shakes his head.

"The Uber driver has never seen him before, so he doesn't count as a credible witness and the waitress who served him with the late-night brandy claimed that it was dark and she was exhausted. Yes, the person looked and sounded like Mr. Enevoldsen, but she is not 100 percent sure and she can't remember taking a good look at his face as he was wearing that stupid hat while he was in the hotel's bar. And then, after the nightcap, he goes up to his room but instead of entering it, he covers the CCTV on the corridor with a black scarf and bam, he is gone for good."

Stoick is deep in his thoughts while he carefully fishes off the sausages from the grill and puts them on a plate. Gobber opens a pack of Warburton's Old English White sliced bread with a happy grunt. They have terrible eating habits but that's just the umpteenth thing they have in common. They eat the sausages and with the bread quietly.

Gobber puts down his now empty plate and debates pouring another round of warm shots.

"People don't just disappear into thin air," he claims as he puts his hand on the flask. "I mean, sometimes they do, but this man enjoyed his life to the most. And we have checked, he had no financial issues, he was ready to invest good money into that stripper place. And apart from his wallet and phone, he left everything behind in his room."

Stoick grabs a napkin and wipes his mouth. His beard is still glistening with fat from the sausage, but he couldn't care less.

"And what did the club owner say?"

Gobber shrugs. "Drago Bludvist? Not much. Enevoldsen called an Uber and left after that Heather-Leather dancer girl refused his advances. Bludvist didn't seem to be agitated or worried, he was factual. Plus they wanted to close the business deal in the next days. Why would anyone get rid of a potential partner before getting his money?"

Stoick places the potatoes and the patties on the grill, the charcoals hiss when the fat from the burgers starts dripping on them. The wind has pretty much died out entirely, but it's still chilly.

"So?" Asks Stoick with a quirked eyebrow.

"So what?"

Stoick laughs up, he knows his former partner / all-time best friend too well. "Come on, Gobber, I know ye are planning on something."

"I am," he admits without hesitation, "I think some good old fashioned undercover job would prove useful."

Stoick thinks for a few seconds then turns the burgers and the potatoes in foil. "And who is the lucky winner?"

Gobber turns around and takes two steps to reach his leather file bag he casually dropped on an unused deckchair.

"As a matter of fact…" he starts slowly while he opens the bag and takes a file out, "As a matter of fact, there are two lucky winners. One of them is a new recruit."

He hands out the file to Stoick. It's a work application form. He looks at the small picture of the blonde girl in the top right corner. Then his eyes scan her personal data. Place of birth, name of parents… he raises a brow. "Is this who I think she is?"

"Yep, she is," Gobber assured Stoick, "I think she wants to return to her roots."

Stoick flips through the pages. Already a sergeant. The burly man is nothing but impressed. "She seems like an excellent catch," he says while handing back the file.

Gobber nods. "Yep. I've already hired her."

"So what's the plan?" Stoick inquires while he starts to pick up the burgers from the grill. "Is she going to be a bartender at that devilish hole?"

"Nope. A dancer."

The tong stops in Stoick's hand and he almost drops one precious patty between the grill and the plate he is holding. Gobber reaches out and helps him finish the move.

"Don't worry ye old, emotional bear, she is going to be some warm-up dancer, she won't drop her clothes. Well, not all of them."

"Still, it sounds a bit too risky," he tries again, "I don't know... she looks fragile."

Gobber puts down the plate on the desk and grabs the bottom half of a bun. He spoons a generous amount of spicy mustard on it then reaches for the ketchup.

"It was her idea and well, she did some MMA fighting, obviously can handle a gun, yadda yadda yadda. I'm not worried about her. She has already got the job, apparently, she can dance. And speaks_ Icelandic_, that might come handy. Plus, no one knows her here. Well, not anymore."

Stoick snorts and thinks for a minute.

"And who is the other 'lucky winner'?"

Gobber puts down his hamburger without biting in it. "Well, funny you should ask..."

* * *

**NOW**

"I prefer Sergeant Hofferson," she says as if it was the world's most natural thing to be an awesome policewoman at such a young age... As for Hiccup, he is still _just_ an officer with a ridiculously strong headache and he is not particularly thrilled when his _new partner_ unintentionally rubs it in his face.

"O-officer Haddock," he stutters and reaches out to shake the delicate hand she holds out for him. He guesses this is a rare situation when people imitate sex with each other before having been properly introduced, maybe rare enough to be the first in history.

Suddenly a jolt of pain stabs his temple and he squeezes her hand far too long and far too strong, so a displeased squeak leaves her lips. Looking a bit annoyed, she pulls her right hand back and starts to massage it with the other. This is most probably _not the beginning of a beautiful partnership, _he thinks and it's terrible that even his inner voice is sarcastic.

"I'm sorry, I… my head is killing me," he admits and pokes his temple with his index finger. Probably, he should poke his eyes too, it still feels highly impossible and intimidating that the gorgeous dancer girl he met and adored last night is right in front of him. It doesn't feel normal, it shouldn't feel normal, it is very confusing.

Someone should have had the decency to warn him about her… And then remembers that he forgot to talk to Ruffnut. Ruffnut, who is standing a few feet away from them with a smirk the size of Greater London. He gives her the evil eye and the mean wench replies with a sordid chuckle.

One thing is sure: he needs to talk to Sergeant Hofferson in private, to clear things up, to understand what the fuck is actually going on because he really feels left out. But privacy is not an easily achievable goal in an open office. Luckily, Gobber turns out to be a mind reader and saves his day. At least a tiny part of it.

"Listen, ye can go talk in my office. I'd be happy if ye could collate yer reports, ye don't need to hand me two separate papers. The less _papa_ has to read, the happier he is."

They both nod. "After you, Officer Haddock," she gestures quickly with her hands a moment later. Splendid. A few unsure steps later, he looks back at her over his shoulder. She is right behind him, fixing him with those giant sapphire eyes, but her expression is unreadable.

He quietly walks to his boss's massive desk and turns around while she shuts the door behind them. He twists his hands and grabs the edge of the table behind his back for support. She stops a couple of feet from him and expectantly crosses her arms in front of her chest. He feels pitiful. Probably because he _is_ pitiful.

"So... You're not Miss Stormfly," he states, breaking the silence and surprisingly his voice sounds surer than he really is.

She shakes her head and flashes a discreet smile. "No. That's just an act, my cover." She steps closer to him and takes out her phone from the side pocket of her elegant blue trousers. "This is Stormfly."

The background picture on her iPhone is her, hugging the most graceful husky Hiccup has ever seen. He looks at it closely and for some unexplained reason, it makes him relieved, nay, happy that there's no one else on the picture... Of course, he knows it doesn't mean that she has no significant other in her life, eh, why wouldn't she have? She is the platonic ideal of a woman. But still, it is nice to see her with a dog and a dog only. A fabulous looking one, he has to admit.

"Your eyes. They have the same color," he points out with a faint grin because it's an adorable coincidence.

"You know what they say. At some point, the dogs and their owners start to look alike..."

He combs through his hair to ease the nervousness and to boost his confidence and her eyes linger on his long, thin fingers for a moment. "I don't know about that..." His slender fingers now fall down from his hair and disappear in the inside pocket of his jacket from where he fishes put a worn Polaroid picture. "Yeah, I'm a weirdo, I have an actual paper picture with me."

He hands her the picture and it feels nice when their knuckles touch for a split second. "He is Toothless. And yeah, I know I'm a terrible person to make him wear a red bandana with a skull, but hey, 2020 is the new eighties."

She smiles when she looks at the picture, it's obvious that she is really fond of dogs. "What is he? An all-black border collie?"

"Uh, a mongrel, but he definitely has some border collie in him. And a lot of other things. Fire-spitting dragon, water buffalo, chimpanzee..."

She giggles and she is really cute when she does it, but he knows he should suppress these improper feelings about her. He shouldn't make those remarks in his head about her looks, because they are colleagues now - and not just _plain_ colleagues, no, no, they were made partners and even though it's the first time he is partnered up with somebody, he knows it is a great responsibility. He refuses to see the object of his carnal desire in her, these vile feeling should be and will be covered by the thick, sturdy layer of a professional relationship, no matter how hard and unachievable it feels right now.

On the other hand, it makes him happy that they are equal now; he didn't fancy this whole customer/stripper idea in the first place even if it's every little boys' wet dream. And they are both dog persons. _They are e__qual__ dog persons and it makes him feel less vulnerable._ She hands him back the picture and their fingers touch again. He shouldn't notice it, but he does.

"Why Toothless?" She asks while curiously looking into his eyes. At least her gaze feels less and less intimidating, it's progress. He will get over her charm because he has to. He clears his throat and tries to act normal.

"Well, he was very little when I found him, thrown away in a ditch with a broken tailbone. He started to suck on my thumb and I thought he had no teeth. Then he bit me."

She smiles again and he is enchanted by her teeth, he wants to be bitten by that perfect set of white pearls… Eh, _not again_. Maybe. In another galaxy. Someday. But only after this world has ended. He desperately tries to focus on their conversation instead of his confused thoughts.

"So, I'm guessing, you had no idea about who I was…" she points out the obvious.

He nods and he feels that he is blushing. At least the headache starts to numb.

"Gobber told me to talk to Ruffnut about something, but… well, let's just say she is not my favorite person, so I avoided her."

He doesn't want to elaborate on his grudge with Ruff, so he quickly changes the subject.

"What brought you here? Berk isn't exactly the best place to fulfill one's sweetest career dreams..."

"Hah. Did I give you the wrong impression? Do you take me for a ruthless career bitch?"

He shrugs and blushes a little. "I mean..."

"Yeah, I know, I'm young and I'm a sergeant. But guess what? I helped to solve a baffling case, saved a lot of government money, I got promoted. Nothing big, really."

She steps closer to him and her nearness is uncomfortable, it reminds him of all the things they híve done the day before on that squeaky bed... Yes, they were just playing, he knows that, but some fragments of it feel oddly realistic in retrospect.

"And you dance in a strip club."

"Anybody can dance."

"I can't."

"Right. But you can _stare_ at dancers."

Okay, here we go. So she definitely noticed that he wasn't looking at her with indifferent eyes, she must know that he wasn't blind to her beauty. Oh, well, he still isn't, but he has to keep his secret for their sake, for their jobs' sake, even if it means he has to lie. Or just conceal the truth.

"Guilty as charged, but my job was to stare..."

Her eyes go wide. "Sorry, I didn't mean to accuse you of anything. I'm just a bit confused about last night. I mean, you didn't know who I was..." He nods his head in affirmation because it's true. "...yet you paid a helluva lot of money to..."

He cuts her off before she makes it awkward. "I desperately wanted to get into the _Champagne Room,_" he says firmly.

"I know, me too." She sighs and he sees a pinch of weakness in her, it is unusual, but it makes her look less like a superhero and more like a normal human being and he happens to like it.

"How do you know that I wasn't going to...? I mean, did you know who I was?"

She sighs again. "Yeah, I saw a picture of you when I first met Gobber."

"Still, you didn't know me… What if I jumped at you or something? Not that I would ever... you know." It feels a bit awkward again and he doesn't even know why the Hel he felt the urge to ask it. Probably, because he feels a tiny bit guilty, but her immediate reaction surprises him. She laughs up, loudly, from her heart and punches his upper arm.

"Oh, don't you worry about me. I did MMA for years, plus Ruffnut _has told me_."

He quirks an eyebrow and a dreadful feeling starts to overcome him. "What has she told you?"

"That you were _gay_. And I have to admit that I'm so glad that once in this life I'm paired up with someone who won't try to hit on me."

For some reason, it makes her overly enthusiastic and she hugs him. She smells sweet and she feels soft between his arms and even though he is petrified because of what she had just said, he returns her hug. But then quickly lets go of her. He feels an unknown rage growing in his guts and all he wants to do is give a piece of his mind to Ruffnut.

He doesn't care if she makes stupid faces at him, he doesn't care if she 'accidentally' hits him, he doesn't care if she wants to make his life miserable, but he _does_ care about what Sergeant Hofferson thinks about him, and even though there is absolutely nothing wrong with being gay, he doesn't want to turn into a gay best partner, when he is not.

"Would you excuse me for a second?" He doesn't wait for her permission, he doesn't need it. He heads for the door and he is quite sure that nothing can stop him now. He exits Gobber's office and looks around for Ruffnut. It's easy to spot her; she is standing next to the water fountain, talking far too harshly with someone on the phone. A couple of long and determined strides later he is in front of her and he grabs her phone, tearing it from her ear and dropping it on the floor.

"Hey, you idio..."

He shoves her to the wall. "Listen, Thorston, I've had enough. I never cared about your little _Operation Revenge-Haddock-For-Refusing-Me_, but let me assure you that war is on if you keep on spreading lies about me just because I've hurt your pride."

She doesn't say anything at first, the sudden and unlikely ambush leaves her flabbergasted and mute - probably for the first time in her life. But then again, her attacker is just that little runt, the privileged son of crown prosecutor Haddock, who _dared_ to refuse her when she offered him the best remedy to his miserable life: herself. So she laughs him in the face, rudely and loudly, and the weakling's hands finally slip off from her shoulders.

"Listen, Haddock... I sat on your lap at that fricking party, grinding my fine ass on your shlong and it didn't even move," she hisses through gritted teeth. "In my book, it means that you are a snake swallower, a sausage lover, a pole..."

She only stops when his long fingers cover her filthy mouth. She debates biting him, but the constant white noise-like buzzing of the office suddenly stops around them, and she is sure that all eyes are keenly watching their little performance.

"Has occurred to you," he whispers with nothing but pure, raw anger, "that I'm not gay just simply uninterested you?"

Ruffnut thinks for a moment then shakes her head. Hiccup rolls his eyes, she is unbelievable... He lowers his hand from her mouth, hoping that she won't start screeching because he feels that Sergeant Hofferson is watching them.

"Ruffnut, please," he asks on a softened tone, "there's nothing wrong with you or me, you are just not my type, that's all it is."

"Okay," says Ruffnut quietly, "point taken."

He takes a step back and turns around, he tries to ignore the curious world around him while he heads back to Astrid, blushed from toe to temple.

"What is your type then?"

Asks Ruffnut half-loudly with a shady tone. He stops for a moment, but doesn't answer the question and doesn't turn back to look at her. He starts to walk again and Astrid takes a few steps to let him in.

"Is it tall, blonde and _sergeant_?" Inquires Ruffnut from behind and there are suppressed laughs coming from all corners of the office, but he just shuts the door and doesn't give a fuck.

"I'm sorry about that," he starts quietly once he is back at the desk. He courageously stands the gaze of the big blue eyes and he hopes, that she hasn't heard the _grinding_ part, because that was one of his most embarrassing moments in life. "Ruffnut is... she can be terrible sometimes. I usually tolerate her better, but... with my headache and all..."

"So you are not gay?"

He shakes his head. "No, I'm not. I'm sorry..."

"Good." Astrid's instant reaction comes a little too fast. "I mean, not that it matters," she corrects herself.

He smiles. "But I promise I won't hit on you," he adds sheepishly, "we are _partners_."

"Right. We are."

There's a bit of awkward silence between them, but she doesn't let it take over. "Erm, where were we? Oh, right. So, did you spot anything unusual in the _Champagne Room_?"

"Well, the room was recently cleaned, there was a faint smell of bleach, but whoever did the job, wasn't thorough enough. There're broken pieces of glass in the fireplace..."

"... and under the bed. Nice catch, Officer Haddock."

He blushes, but this time it feels right because it is work-related, so he continues. "There were faint marks and dark spots on the north wall and on the floor; they looked as if someone had hastily tried to clean a relatively huge amount of blood."

"There was definitely something going on in that room..."

They look at each other and the same thought is on their minds. She is the one who finally dares to say it out loud.

"We have to get back."

"Wouldn't it be too risky? I thought these places have a strong policy against regular pairings. To protect you. I mean the dancers. Not the undercover police officers."

She flashes a perfect-teethed smile at him. "I don't think two occasions would raise any brows, but I can talk to Eret. I could feed him a little white lie about me needing financial support. You were a generous customer."

"Do you trust him?"

She laughs up. " Do I trust the bartender slash bouncer of the strip club? No, I don't. But he can be bribed. Either with money or... with flashing a little flesh." She demonstrates what she means by tugging at the hem of her blouse at the top, revealing two inches of her flawless skin. And Hiccup becomes embarrassed once again for a short second.

"Erm... I really don't think there's need for that..."

"Trust me, I've done worse."

He chuckles. He really doesn't want to know what she means by "worse", but he also really wants to know... He decides that for the sake of his sanity, he will not ask about it. He is quite sure that some things are better left unknown...

He clears his throat before changing the subject. "Ahem. The problem is that I'm not allowed to take anything inside apart from my wallet. They took away my phone and I'm sure they would ask some rude questions if I took my detective kit with me."

She laughs up again, she seems entertained. "Detective kit? What are you, five?"

"Okay. _Portable Forensic Evidence Kit_, Sergeant Perfect."

"Oh, I could get used to that name!" She exclaims with joy, then continues a bit less enthusiastically. "The problem is that they search the dancers as well and they take away our phones too. Brrr, imagine a dressing room full of phoneless women..."

"Ugh. I can't."

"It's happening there. _Every night_. It's a nightmare..." She leans closer to him, imitating a fake fright while she jokingly grabs his collar and pulls him closer. "They talk. They _constantly_ talk."

They both laugh up and he notices that she holds him close to herself a little longer than necessary. He doesn't remind her of that, but unfortunately, she soon lets go of him.

"But I would like to live up to my reputation, you know, to the good old Sergeant Perfect one, not the Miss Flexible one."

It's a good thing that she turns her back to him to grab the bag from she placed on Gobber's desk when she arrived to work today because his eyes grow wide and his jaw drops. Mainly, because he knows _how_ flexible she is... She turns back and searches the bag then triumphantly presents a smaller bag to Hiccup.

He opens it. There's a smaller bag inside, a make-up kit, probably full of all those unfamiliar, weird things girls use to make things longer, shinier and thinner. He peeks inside when she hands it over and he cannot _not_ notice that there are quite a few packs of condoms in it... His heart sinks, it sad to see that she does have a private life. He shakes his head hoping that it would relieve his disappointment, but it doesn't. He gives the bag back to her.

"I'm sorry, Sergeant Hofferson, I don't get it. Why would we need a make-up bag?"

"Oh, it's not a make-up bag, Officer Haddock, this is my_ portable forensic evidence kit_."

He quirks an eyebrow at her again while she unpacks the contents of the little bag on the table. "Tweezers. Evidence bags and rubber gloves - disguised as condoms."

"Nice!" He flashes an honest smile, there is some relief after all.

"Body spray…" She adds, placing the can carefully on the table.

"If you get sweaty during evidence collection?"

"Nah, I don't mind getting sweaty. There's _Luminol_ in it, to show blood. Aaaand my little mascara torch!" It's touching to see how her face lights up every time she proudly fishes out a new gadget, her dedication to the job is nothing but enviable.

"And this little thing is the one we need right now, dear partner." She hands him a cylindrical silver object which is cool to the touch. He examines it carefully.

"A lipstick?"

"A voice recorder."

He is confused. What on Earth could they record in an empty room? Then it hits him. "Oh, are we recording notes for our reports?"

She shakes her head. "No. We're making a _sex tape_."

* * *

Thanks for the comments and favs/follows, the next chapter will be up next Friday.

For additional info (meaning mild spoilers about this fic) or questions, visit me on haddocksortails dot tumblr dot com.

Have a great rest of the week!


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four: ...in which Sergeant Hofferson and Officer Haddock moan and pant quite a lot**

* * *

Since they agreed on her place, going with her car was the obvious choice. He slowly and wordlessly follows her from the office to the parking lot to the silver Toyota Prius. After she opens the door with a bleep, he obediently sits in. Hiccup finds the car surprisingly neat and _empty_; there are no old CDs, boxes of tissues, bags or plastic bottles neither on the back seat nor on the floorboard.

It is strangely unfamiliar for him given that he probably has more stuff in his car than in the downtown apartment he owns, but at least the faint smell of _wet dog_ that is lingering inside makes her mint condition car a little less foreign to him.

She is mute while she drives out of the dim parking lot of the police station, but once they are out on the busy streets of Berk she leans towards him to get a pair of sunglasses out from the glove compartment. She brushes his knee with the back of her hand while she opens the compartment and when she puts the glasses on, she briefly glances at him, flashing a reassuring smile.

"Make yourself comfortable, it's going to be a good twenty minutes," she says casually, "I live in the suburbs. You know… it's easier with the dog."

"Eh, don't tell me about it, I have to run a 5K in the park every day as a punishment for only having a 15' by 15' garden," he comments leaning back on the seat. _Dogs_. It was a good, neutral topic, a common interest, something harmless, something he could hold a convo about.

"Well, we could join in someday if your dog doesn't hate female company," she offers casually. For a split second, the image of her wearing a pair of tight runner shorts creep into his _manmind_, but he quickly erases it.

"Nah, Toothless is not a misogynist. He-he takes after his owner," he stutters and it feels awkward. There is no reaction from her side, which makes it even more uncomfortable after a few seconds.

"So... why Berk? It's not like the world's most exciting place," he tries something new.

"Erm... I was born here. Born, but not raised."

"Did you move?"

Astrid starts chewing on her lower lip. It's been 20 years ago, but it still hurts, it always will.

"Just me. My..." She takes a deep sigh before finishing the sentence. "My parents died in a car crash."

"Oh, I'm sorry about that," he says and he truly means it. She is glad she has sunglasses on because she feels that some unborn tears are stretching the corners of her eyes.

"Don't be... It was 20 years ago. I hardly remember them."

There are a few minutes of silence between them while both of them try to focus on the road ahead instead of childhood traumas.

"My mom left us when I was 6," he says finally, "I know it's nothing compared to your situation, but she was absent most of my life."

"Where did she go?"

"Well, she moved to Romania to open a dog shelter. She still lives there."

"Why didn't she..." Astrid starts asking, but she suddenly has to slam on the breaks when some reckless a-hole cuts in front of her. The loud honk of the horn completely suppresses the cuss words she mutters under her nose.

"Why didn't she take me?" Hiccup finishes the question when everything is settled and she nods. "Well, it's a rural area, still very undeveloped, there's no running water or electricity, the winters are harsh, the people are hopeless. There's nothing but... well, _nothing_."

They are both quiet for a while again.

"Hey, I know this place..." exclaims Hiccup cheerfully, "There's a park with a lake in the middle. My mom used to take me there to feed the ducks and the geese. We lived in this neighborhood when I was little."

"Aaand we are only a left turn and 500 yards away from where I lived when I was little," adds Astrid with a gentle smile. "I moved back here a few months ago."

She stops the car when she reaches the last house on the street. It's definitely a family home, far too big for one person and Hiccup wonders for a moment if a significant other waits for them on the other side of the door or not. They both get out of the car and he marvels at the building. It's a two-storey brick house, covered with ivy from threshold to roof.

"I know it's a too big for one person," she says as if she could read his mind, "It's actually for two generations, there's a small apartment downstairs where my great-granny lived, but it's nice to live here until I figure out what to do with it. Hiccup only hears the "one person" part of her speech and he is happy that no handsome fellow waits for them inside.

The keys chimes while she fishes them out from her bag and an excited barking starts inside followed by fast little paw steps.

He shares a wide grin with her. "That sound is _very_ familiar," he confesses while they head for the door.

"I have to warn you that Stormfly is a bit territorial and she isn't the best host.. but she'll get used to you."

They step inside. The beautiful husky Hiccup saw on Astrid's screen is almost delirious while she tries to simultaneously lick the girl's hand and jump up and down with pure joy. She laughs up and tousels the hair on the dog's head.

Then the husky notices Hiccup. She quiets down and observes the intruder with narrow eyes debating whether he is the right or the wrong kind of stranger...

Hiccup holds the dog's gaze and slowly crouches down. Astrid is quietly watching as he stretches out his hand and Stormfly slowly walks in front of him. The dog waits for a hard few seconds then presses her head to his warm palm.

"There, there.." he says gently while he scratches the husky's ear. The dog lets out a satisfied grunt.

Astrid's eyes grow big in awe, "Wow, what a dog whisperer you are..."

"That's probably an overstatement," he says with a lopsided grin while he stands up and wipes his palms on his jeans, "but I learned some tricks from my mother."

She smiles back at him. "Okay, I think I should let this little rascal out because I don't think we need dog barks in the background."

She opens the door wide and Hiccup immediately understands why the husky is called Stormfly, she darts out without looking back and a split second later she is nowhere to be seen.

"Let's go upstairs to my bedroom," she offers, "I mean, we kinda need a bed if we are making a_ sex tape_."

Hiccup is sure that he becomes pale as a corpse, but luckily, she has already turned away from him and heads for the stairs across the spacious living room.

"Have you seen _her_ dance?" She asks, still walking before him, trying to sound neutral, but a hint of insecurity in her voice is plausible.

"Erm... no, I did not. I was in the _Champagne Room_ with you when she was on stage..."

She shakes her head. "No, I meant _before_. All our male colleagues seem to know her and her hmmm _art_."

"Well, last night was actually my first night at a strip club," comes his honest answer while they climb the stairs.

"Oh," she sounds confused, "I thought all young men were interested in these places. But then again… you wore a bowtie…"

He lets out a little laugh. "Hey, I like that tie… and truth be told, I'm not comfortable with the whole concept."

She stops at the second door and turns back to him.

"I understand. I'm not comfortable either," she says with a serious face and it's the first time it occurs to Hiccup that she mustn't enjoy dancing on that shady stage, surrounded by a group of gaping, hungry vultures.

"I'm sorry that you..." he starts, but she shakes her head.

"No, it's okay Hiccup. I mean I'm positive that we will figure out this case soon enough."

"Amen to that, Astrid," he says gently and it earns him a tiny smile from her.

"Okay, let's get down to business," she says and opens the door to her bedroom.

She has a king-sized bed and for a moment he feels jealous of the man (or, oh, boy… _men_?) she has shared it with, but he shakes his head, it's really none of his business. And, well, since she has just moved back, it's probably not that many... he doesn't know what to think, really, she looks like a lustful succubus on stage, yet in real life, she does have a chaste, modest vibe...

"Do you mind if I change into something more comfortable?" She asks interrupting his thoughts.

"Oh, not at all."

She disappears in a walking closet, then comes back with a few items of clothing in her hand then heads out of the room. When she is back, she is wearing black yoga pants and a sleeveless blue top. She sits on the bed and he notices that her feet are bare. She has long, narrow toes and slim feet, which are very attractive, but his heart skips a beat when he notices the thin silver ankle bracelet she is wearing. He doesn't know why, but this is the only piece of jewelry he really likes on a woman and she has the perfect ankle for it…. He looks away and takes a deep breath.

"Hey, take off your jacket and your shoes, and come, here," she says and pats the bed next to her.

He sheepishly takes off his jacket and places on a sofa. She must use it for reading because there's a lamp standing by it and a cabinet with a couple of books on its top, but he can't read the titles. He kicks off his shoes then hesitates for a second. "Erm, Astrid... do you mind if I take off my socks too? I know it's a stupid OCD, but I can't wear socks in bed..."

She giggles. "Go ahead, I can relate to that, see?" She strokes the arches of her beautiful, slender feet. His eyes are on the ankle bracelet again; it's going to be hard, really really hard...

He sits down on the bed and the mattress squeaks under him.

"Yeah, luckily, my bed is noisy too," she notes. There are only two inches between their bare feet and he can't help it, he has to stare at the thin space that separates their skins…

"Oh, yeah, the recorder!" She exclaims and lifts her hip a bit while fishing for the small lipstick-shaped recording device in her pocket. She places it on the nightstand next to her side.

"So, I guess we need at least half an hour to look around, what do you think?" She asks while she hugs her bent legs and places her head on her knees turning towards him.

"Yeah, yeah," he nods slowly, "half an hour or forty minutes should be enough."

"We were in a bit of a rush last night..."

"Yeah," he agrees, "but I wasn't sure what we were doing."

"I know. I wasn't sure either, but this time... Okay, so..." Her cheeks turn a shade pinker, it's the telltale sign of her own embarrassment, Hiccup finds it curious; she seemed so sure and determined up until this point… She clears her throat, but her voice still sounds a little insecure. "So, I guess we need a little banter, then the foreplay and the main action... with occasional moans and grunts and maybe I should scream a little?"

It sounds like a recipe. "Take a cup of foreplay, mix it with a handful of moans and grunts and season it with a pinch of scream." For Hiccup, it sounds more like a recipe for disaster than of a sex tape. But… his biggest problem is that he doesn't know how he should sound... Of course, he has seen porn (it's not something he is proud of, but he has his needs and a little stimulation has never hurt), but most of the time he turns the volume off, because all those fake "yeses" and "fasters" just make him feel vicarious embarrassment. Besides, what do men say in porn movies? He can't see himself vulgarly complementing her body or the way she uses her hands or tongue.

The more he thinks about the night before, the more awkward the whole thing seems. Of course, they didn't know each other then and it was just an awkward impromptu scene, but now they need a strategy, a well-thought-out concept.

He looks at her sitting next to him. She is still hugging her legs, resting her head on her knees, possibly waiting for him to do the creative thinking. He straightens himself and looks around. They need to get into a certain type of mood to...

"Erm, do you mind if we close the curtains?" He asks because dim lights sound calmer and more intimate compared to the bright sunlight that lights up the room.

"Oh, sure, I can do that," she offers and jumps off the bed quickly and swiftly like a panther. She pulls the curtains and the darker room with the freshly grown long shadows feels safer. She walks back to the bed and looks at him. He has one of her large pillows on his lap. "Do you mind if I use this?" He asks. She quirks an eyebrow but assures him that he can. She sits back next to him.

"Okay then... Just press record and... follow my lead," he says as if he knew what he was doing. Actually, he has an idea, he hopes it could work. She grabs the recorder presses the button and puts the device back on the nightstand.

Okay. This is just acting, he can do it. He takes a deep breath then dives in.

"Miss Stormfly, I'm very glad you made another meeting possible."

She hesitates for a moment, then it's on...

"My pleasure, Mr. Fury."

"I hope your pleasure will be our _mutual pleasure_." Eh… He is going for the cocky style, but he feels that Mr. Fury, whoever the hell he is, can get away with it.

She smiles and pokes out the tip of her tongue. "You sound more confident than last night…"

"You will feel my confidence soon enough, _milady_..."

"Milady? I like the sound of that." She has to admit to herself that she really does like it, it's so old-fashionably kind.

He doesn't know how he came up with that word and the sharp blue eyes lingering on him feel a bit intimidating, but he doesn't want to screw up the task at hand.

"How about we lie down?" His alter ego suggests while he is still holding the pillow in front of him like a shield. She lies down and he follows her, now they are on their sides, facing each other.

"Last night, it felt a bit hasty... don't get me wrong, I enjoyed every second of it, but I want to take my time today..." He keeps looking at her, and it is the first time she notices just how beautiful the emerald color of his eyes is. It's a bit confusing, now that they are so close to each other, but his presence doesn't freak out her at all. She finds it strange; normally she would… okay, whatever. She is not Astrid Hofferson now, she is Miss Stormfly…

"I don't mind if we take it down a notch," she agrees, but she is not quite sure what he is talking about…

"Erm... I wish I could kiss you, _milady_, but I know that there rules against..."

She giggles. "There's only one person who makes my rules and that happens to be me. You can kiss me if you want to. " Eh, she sounds way too confident, but when he moves, she shivers… he is not _actually_ kissing her or is he?

A hard moment later he lifts his hand and places his warm palm on her mouth. He smells of sandalwood soap and she likes it, but it takes a second before she understands what he wants from her.

She slowly starts to kiss his palm and she is genuinely surprised how credible it sounds as if they were actually kissing… She closes her eye, because looking at him while doing it could be a distraction, plus it feels more natural this way…

He removes his hand a good two minutes later and his gaze lingers at her wet lips for a moment.

"Take off your clothes," he says and nods at her, meaning to fake undressing. She moves her hands and legs around to make swishing sounds with her clothes.

"How about you, Mr. Fury? Won't you undress too?"

A wicked little smile appears on the corner of his mouth. "No, I won't."

"Okay then…," she says, "here is tonight's offer…" Luckily, his _manmind_ doesn't imagine her naked body, and he is thankful for that because it means he can go on with his plans.

He lifts the pillow and lightly presses it to her boobs. She gets it…

"Oh, a little tongue practice on my _party hats_, Mr. Fury? Mmmm… I'm not saying I'm against it…"

She bits her lip while taking a deep breath. This should feel good, right? She thinks it should, so she lets out a moderate moan. And then another one. It's kind of fun, so she smiles at him. He smiles back, but then he looks serious again and he makes a few squelching sounds with his mouth. Part of her wants to laugh up, but the other part finds it exciting...

Then he moves the pillow away and she knows it is time to stop with the moans.

"I have to admit… you have a very talented tongue," she says in a lustful voice, which luckily, doesn't sound awkward.

He slowly starts to slide down the pillow on her body while making kiss sounds with his lips.

"Just – _kiss_ – wait – _kiss – _until – _kiss –_ I – _kiss – _get – _kiss – a_ – _kiss – _bit – _kiss – _lower – _kiss…_"

The pillow leaves her stomach (which she unintentionally sucks in, god knows why…), and stops under her waistline… She knows that her face is beetroot red, but luckily he is fixing her stomach while holding the pillow and the room is safely dark anyway. Okay, this is going to be hard, but… She takes a deep breath. It's doable. It has to be doable…

"Oh, my…," she moans and takes the pillow. She places it between her thighs.

He makes those squelching sounds again… and oh, God, why does the room feel suddenly 20 degrees warmer? She bits her lips. She can do it, she must do it…

And she does it. She moans and groans and grunts and whispers a few "oh my"-s and a couple of "God bless you, Mr. Fury"-s, and it should feel awkward, but it doesn't as long as her eyes are shut and she concentrates on her act.

At the end (or rather, when she feels it should be the end), even a few little screams leave her mouth and her thighs tighten around the pillow.

When she lets go of it and he removes it, only then she dares to open her eyes. He lies back on his back and she swears he has a tiny grin on his face - as if he has actually done _something really good to her_… She scrunches her nose at his sassiness while lying back on her back. She also remembers to pant a little.

"Okay, Mr. Fury, I can't hate you for doing that."

He lets out a little laugh. "Yeah, you seemed to be enjoying yourself..."

Okay, she can't help it. She props herself on her elbow and with her free fist, she punches him.

"Ouch, what did I get it for?"

"I hate arrogant men," she says simply, then leans close to him and leaves a small peck on his cheek.

"Okay. And what did I get _that_ for?"

She shrugs. "I have to acknowledge your talents. Positive reinforcement."

"Now I feel like Pavlov's dog," he says and looks into her eyes with those stupid emerald green wonders.

"It figures, with all that salvation..." she replies with a triumphant smile.

"Touché…" Yeah, he has to admit, that he definitely enjoys her witty retorts.

"Well, Mr. Fury, I think it's time to fulfill your desires. How may I serve you?"

He moves around a bit before sitting up with a grunt. She expectantly looks up at him.

"Erm… now that you have mentioned Pavlov's dogs, I think it's only fair if you get on your hands and knees…"

His own words frighten him for a moment when he believes her face is in shock. Probably his joke went a bit far...

When she giggles he is relieved. "Mr. Fury, you are a bad bad boy…"

He shrugs and smiles. "We all have our little harmless kinks..."

"Alrighty then…" She sits up then turns around and gets on her knees and hands. There's a moment of tense pause...

"Erm, sorry… " he mumbles and it's his real self, she can hear it.

"It's okay…" she assures him, even though she doesn't know what he is up to. Light fingers land on her waist and grab her gently. He moves her a bit to the left to – for the lack of better words – get better access…

And then he presses the pillow to her butt… and moans. It feels oddly sexy. She closes her eyes again and goes with the flow. He moves behind her sometimes slower, sometimes faster, and she tries to keep up with his pace. With eyes closed, it feels out of this world. She doesn't recognize the voices she makes, she just makes them and they sound surreally real.

He, on the other hand, doesn't even know how he makes it without getting at least a semi; probably it is because he focuses more on his moves and moans and less on his male instincts. There's a hard part when he fakes his own climax, but he manages to do it without feeling lame or embarrassed and it's a huge success, because… yeah, his fantasies don't make up for the lack of experience...

But this time, he tries not to feel insecure about it. In the end, he drops the pillow on the bed and places his hands back on her waist – this time without asking her forgiveness. He just needs a little support while panting for a while. But then it's over and he drops on the bed next to her.

"Thank you, milady," he whispers.

"Not at all…" she whispers back while lying back next to him. They silently look at each other for a few minutes and somehow it feels very intimate. Then she shakes her head sits up, turns towards the nightstand, reaches for the recorder and presses stop.

There's a huge grin on her face when she looks back at him.

"Yay, we did it, partner," she says happily and holds out her hand for a high five. He slaps her palm and smiles back; he can't help it, he feels overly proud of himself...

* * *

**The next chapter will be up next Sunday.**

**The rating of this fic is T now, but I either change the very last chapter to M or post a separate chapter rated M, I haven't decided it yet. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: ...in which serious progress is made but later Sergeant Hofferson's boobs get in the way**

* * *

The bartender with the extraordinary chin tattoo lifted an eyebrow when he noticed the young man from last night casually walking up to the counter. Eret Eretson could easily recognize shady persons or questionable intentions and he was often able to exchange this ability to good money, but somehow he could not put a label on this one, he was a glitch in his matrix. He pretended not to notice Mr. Fury yet, he continued to wipe the glasses in front of him, but he used the time he gained to observe him.

He seemed very different the night before when he was constantly blushing, quavering and just generally seemed out of place. But now he was patiently waiting to be served, not looking like a deer in the headlights, but like someone who belongs to this place. Eret was aware that good sex was the best way to boost someone's confidence and judging by the way the young fellow looked and behaved today, Miss Stormfly must have worked her best magic on him. There was no point in denying the obvious, he envied him. Of course, he did, Miss Stormfly had the face of an angel and the body of a Greek goddess, yet there was nothing shallow about her - apart from the fact that she sold herself for money, which still felt a bit out of character. Well, there was no more time for lamenting on fading morals or increasing self-esteem, so he put down the glass in his hand and directed his attention to the lad who was glancing at his golden watch, probably counting the minutes until the object of his desires would make an appearance.

"Mr. Fury," he greeted him cheerily, successfully hiding his doubts about him, "so good to see you again. Can I offer you something? You are a whiskey drinker as I recall."

"Sure, Eret, surprise me with something. I trust your taste," he answered without hesitation.

Yep, he sounded more collected today, almost smug, and Eret wondered if he was the sore loser of their cock-measuring contest or Mr. Fury just happened to have a good night's sleep. The behemoth Mr. Savage didn't say a word about the _Champagne Room_ when they closed the club at the wee hours of the morning, but he hardly ever opened his mouth, let alone initiating small talk and Eret didn't want to seem curious. Curiosity could easily raise suspicion and that was the last thing he needed, he wanted to lay low, to be out of sight, especially when it came to his boss and _Lady Leather_. He couldn't put a label on them either, they were just generally strange and intimidating, even for Eret, who had seen a thing or two in his life. But for the time being, he_ had to_ keep his job.

After deliberating for a moment, he poured a glass of Talisker for Mr. Fury, who shook his head when he offered him ice.

"Good choice, Eret, I like the taste of Skye on my tongue. Have you ever been there?"

Eret shook his head. "No, unfortunately not. They say it's beautiful."

Mr. Fury tasted the dark golden amber-colored liquor. "Well, they are not exaggerating..."

Eret frowned and bit his lower lip before he gave a piece of his mind to this new, puffed-up version of his auburn-haired companion. He had to remind himself that he was _the_ customer.

"Speaking of beautiful things, are you planning on...?" Eret started, but he knew there was no need to finish the sentence.

"Yes. If it's okay with her."

"I can ask Miss Stormfly after her performance, but I must warn you, we don't encourage regular pairings here. For the safety of our ladies."

"Don't worry Eret, I mean no harm," stated the young lad and Eret had no other choice, but to believe him.

"They say _Mala, the Merciless_ is fun company too," he tried one last time and the ridiculous stripper name curved Mr. Fury's mouth into a smile.

"I bet she is, but I'd rather keep exploring the great unknown with Miss Stormfly. And as for your concerns regarding her safety, I'm only here to seal a business deal. In a few days, I'll be as good as gone, moving on. "

Eret watched the lad's face as he took another sip from the whiskey, but his expression was unreadable, yet the thought of him leaving soon lifted the spirit of the tattoed bartender.

* * *

Everything went as they had planned. Sergeant Hofferson danced (and she might or might not have given a half-smile to the young man who was eagerly watching her every move), Officer Haddock asked for her, Eret bargained, took his commission fee and led him to the club's private room, guarded by the silent brute and then the door shut behind him and he found her already sitting at the dressing table with her "make-up bag" on its top.

"Nice to see you, Mr. Fury," she said brightly then stood up and raised her arms for a hug. Hiccup quickly walked up to her and pulled her to his chest. Her lips brushed the shell of his ear. "I think we have a few minutes to look around before I start the tape," she whispered and she pushed him a little with the heel of her hands when he forgot to let go of her.

"Right," he whispered back and rapidly erased the feeling of her lithe body pressed to his because it was not helping at all. He turned around and looked at an empty wall that was a few feet to the right from the sturdy bed. It was covered with floral wallpaper and he ran his gaze up and down at the crimson roses of various forms and shades for a brief moment. He noticed the other night that the floor in front of the wall had some darker marks on it and it was time to pay attention to them.

Meanwhile, Sergeant Hofferson placed the lipstick-recorder on the richly ornamented nightstand next to the bed, then she turned towards him, trying to grab his attention before pressing the play button, but it seemed that he was completely lost in his thoughts, crouching next to the wall, fixing the wooden floor in front of it. Holding his left index finger an inch above the marks, he started following the outline. Yes, just as he thought, they were faint shoe prints, but there was something wrong with their directions, it looked as if someone had walked right through the wall... He leaned closer, his nose almost touched the wall, he squinted his eyes, and then he found what he suspected to be there: a thin line running among the sea of flowers. He placed his finger on it and started to follow it, slowly straightening up from the crouched position.

Astrid cleared her throat to grab his attention. He looked back at her, still holding his finger on the line. She gestured at the recorder and he nodded back at her. She pressed play and their voices filled the room. Normally, it would have been very uncomfortable to hear his own voice, but Officer Haddock was completely swallowed up by his finding, so he turned back to the wall and raised his finger further up, along the line. She took a few soft steps to get behind him, not understanding just why he found that vibrant wallpaper that exciting. His finger was a good ten inches above his head when he stopped.

"Open Sesame..." he whispered and he pressed a spot on the wall with two fingers. The hidden door opened with a small click and Astrid had to put her hand on her mouth to suppress a startled sigh. Hiccup reached up and lightly touched the small magnet that held the door shut, then turned to her with a proud grin on his face.

"Nice..." She whispered back and with a few hasty strides, she was at the dressing table, reaching for her fake make-up bag. She unzipped it while walking back to him and handed him a pair of rubber gloves in condom wrappers. She tore hers with her teeth, which made his eyes blink and triggered an unintentional swallow.

"Quick, put them on," she rushed him, slipping on the gloves, "we don't have much time."

While he fiddled with the wrapper, she took out a torch, also disguised as a lipstick and opened the door wider. A silhouette of a semidark passage unraveled in front of their eyes.

"May I?" Without waiting for his permission, she entered. Finally, he managed to glove up and was ready to start the journey to the unknown.

The unknown turned out to be a corridor, with damp walls and a light smell of mold. It was roughly 30 yards long and at the end of it, the outlines of another door were clearly visible. Sergeant Hofferson took a few steps then something on the floor grabbed her attention. She handed the torch back to Hiccup, who took it from her and directed its light to the floor. She took out a Q-tip from her bag, bent her knees, leaned down and swabbed the dark wet stain. She straightened herself and the light of the torch revealed a conspicuous red substance on the cotton bud.

"Blood?" he asked uncertainly.

"Could be. The lab guys will tell us," she shrugged and carefully placed the swab into a plastic container that looked like a tampon holder.

"Shall we check the door, Sergeant?"

She nodded in agreement and continued her way. There were quite a few stains on the floor, but they didn't have time for them now.

As they got closer, the outlines became sharper. Now they both saw that the door's top panel was made of glass and there was some source of light behind it.

"Oh, fuck," she groaned disappointedly. There was a padlock on the door. It was neither big nor seemed sturdy, but when she lifted it and tugged at it, it became painfully clear that this was the end of the road for the time being.

"We can't open it without a crowbar or a hacksaw," he agreed, "and there's no use in breaking the glass either. Probably would be too loud anyway."

She became upset and hit her head against the door lightly, the evil padlock chimed when it touched its attachment on the door.

He placed a soft hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. "While we are at it, we might as well peek inside," he said quietly and directed the light to the glass panel.

The place inside looked like a storage room, there were high shelves packed with boxes and all kinds of junk probably no one needed anymore and the floor was also littered with worthless trash. The source of the light was a barred window, slightly open, near the ceiling, which was roughly 15 feet high, so they were well below the ground level.

Astrid still felt defeated. "Great, now we can write a nice report to Gobber about how we managed to find the dumping ground of the club."

Hiccup mumbled something, but it was incomprehensible. He started to spiral into the same trance he was in when he discovered the secret door. Astrid turned her head to look at him. His face was only a few inches from hers, yet he was intensely staring at the rubbish inside as if he was searching for something. The sergeant was just about to warn him that the minutes were passing by quickly when raised his finger and pointed at something inside.

"There!" His excited voice was just above a whisper. Astrid turned back to the glass and narrowed her eye, Hiccup was pointing at an old bathtub in the far left corner of the room. She didn't get it, there was nothing unusual about it, it was just a worn-out tub, probably twice as old as she was.

"Hiccup, that's just an ancient bathtub, we really should..." She tried weakly, still feeling downhearted.

"Just look at it for one second," he interrupted her, "can you see the bottles around it?"

"What are those? Some kind of cleaning supplies?"

"Exactly!" He confirmed triumphantly. "Drain cleaners."

She was still utterly puzzled, not being able to comprehend why those throwaway bottles were of any importance.

"Acidic drain cleaners contain sulfuric acid at high concentrations," he explained to her, "and sulfuric acid can practically dissolve hair, fat, bones, everything in a few short days."

Still holding the torch up, he glanced down at her and their gazes locked.

"_John Haigh..._" she muttered, it all made sense now. She had to admit, there was much more to him than what she had first assumed.

"Yep, the 'acid bath killer'". He sounded almost happy. "He used the very same method to get rid of his victims."

She looked at him with pure adoration. "You are a genius..."

He was considering a humble reply but was disrupted by a swift peck she put on his cheek. He was glad they were standing in the darkness because he was sure he was blushing from head to toe.

"I..." he started not knowing how to react, but luckily, she interrupted him.

"Hiccup, we _must_ get inside. I'm sure that the tub contains all the evidence we need for a solid case."

"Probably. But now we have to get back, time is ticking," he warned her.

She bit her lower lip, she was too excited about the new turn of events, but her partner was right, there was no place for reckless behavior or hasty mistakes.

"Okay, let's go back," she said and gently pushed him forward.

* * *

They had the next day off from office work since they have been doing a lot of overtime during the past days. They both needed some rest, especially after their eventful evening, but they agreed to meet early afternoon in a downtown park to discuss their next steps.

Hiccup arrived early, he brought Toothless with him and the black mongrel was more than happy to play fetch in the open field, surrounded by the pink sea of the freshly blooming magnolia trees. Astrid noticed them as she walked down the concrete path leading to the spot they had agreed on. She stopped a few yards away from the pair and enjoyed the view for a few minutes because the way he gently scratched the hair on the dog's head every time he returned with the tennis ball was adorable. They changed directions and Hiccup saw Astrid. He waved her, stretching his long arm, flashing a darling smile, which she returned before she loped towards them. She didn't know why, but his closeness always felt upliftingly safe and cozy.

"Toothless, sit," commanded Hiccup when she got to them and the dog obediently dropped the ball and sat down. "Thanks, bud, now you can greet her, she is Astrid, a friend."

The black dog stood up and casually walked to Astrid. He sniffed the hand she was holding out and finding her smile agreeable, he let her pat him.

"Hello, Toothless, you look like a well-mannered big puppy."

"You only say that, because he hadn't used your favorite shoe as a chew toy or eaten the book you were just about to finish," said Hiccup cheerily, "I hope you don't mind I brought him."

"Not at all, he is beautiful," she complimented truthfully.

"I think I've managed to wear him out a bit, so he won't mind if we sit down. Shall we...?" He gestured to a bench, which was away from the path, half-shaded by a chestnut tree.

They walked up to it in a comfortable space. Toothless found himself a mossy spot near the bench, where he lay down and occupied himself gnawing at his tennis ball, keeping an eye on his master and the blonde girl.

"I've checked that window. It opens to the alley at the back of the building. You can't see anything from up there even with the window open," he started unceremoniously right after they sat down.

"Yeah, I've seen it too. We can't climb down because of the bars, they are quite sturdy. The padlock on the other hand..."

"That's doable. But how could we smuggle a saw in?"

She chewed on her lower lip, trying to figure something out. "I'm not really good at tinkering with things, but we could find someone who can alternate an electric nail drill kit. I could smuggle that in."

His face broke out into an enormous grin as he laughed wholeheartedly.

"What?" She asked back perplexedly, feeling a bit awkward.

"It's just funny that there is a female gadget for everything."

"Yep, but we are benefiting from them, you _knucklehead_," she said and lightly punched his shoulder relieving her embarrassment.

"Well, I'm actually good at tinkering. I used to drive my father mad with my "inventions", but hey, guess who had the first smart home in Berk with an intelligent dog feeder. Until my dad's mastiff destroyed the cover and ate his weekly portion."

"That's not a very good reference, I'm afraid," she said grinning, "but I trust your abilities."

"Thanks, _milady_," he answered simply flashing a lopsided smile at her and the term of endearment turned Sergeant Hofferson's cheeks a shade pinker.

"Okay... So let's say we get in, how can we get a sample from the tub?" she asked, trying to sound neutral when she felt anything but.

"If our assumptions are correct, the tub is filled with well... for the lack of a better word, _sludge_."

"And how can we take samples?"

"It's safe to use a glass pipette and a glass container. Glass is non-reactive to sulfuric acid."

"I hate to tell you, but face serums come with glass pipettes and containers. Women were born to do secret detective work!" she exclaimed joyfully, which made him giggle.

"We might stir the _sludge_ a little, there should be bone fragments. We can use tweezers for them. Yes, even I've heard about eyebrow plucking," he added cheekily.

"And when shall we ascend to the gates of Hell? I'm free today and tomorrow as well. I'm not popular enough to be on stage on Fridays and Saturdays. I mean, I'm glad I only work on weekdays, there are less of a crowd of creeps."

"I know..." he said in a somewhat more serious manner, her being exposed on the stage was still an uncomfortable thought. "How about Monday then? I heard the club is closed on Tuesdays and Wednesdays."

"Yeah, Tuesdays and Wednesdays are off and Monday sounds good. I'm the second act."

"I have a hunch that Eret is a bit suspicious," he admitted.

"Or just jealous," she retorted, which earned her a questioning look from Hiccup.

"Well, he hinted at being interested in me and I completely shrugged him off, claiming _I'm not that type of girl_. But then came the tall, dark stranger with the handful of cash..."

"I'm sorry if I hurt his manly pride."

"You know what they say. Make a woman jealous by finding a younger one and a man by finding a richer. He'll get over it," she declared self-assuredly.

"I hope you are right and he is just envious. He warned me about no regular pairings rule."

"And what did you tell him?"

"That I was only here for business and would leave in a couple of days."

"Good. Then I just tell him we agreed on one last Monday session. I think that doesn't sound too shady, but I..."

A chime interrupted her. "Oh, it's my 'work' phone," she informed him and lifted her hip to pull it out from her back pocket.

"Speaking of the devil..." she mumbled with a frown. "A text from Eret. Drago wants to see me in his office as soon as possible."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why would he...?"

"I don't have the faintest idea... We have never even talked. When I was hired, Lady Leather negotiated with me and he was just sitting in a dark corner, intensely staring at me." She sounded troubled, which made him uneasy.

"How does he look like?"

"Well... big. Very big."

"Mr. Savage big?"

"Even bigger - I know it's hard to imagine. And something is wrong with his right arm, I didn't see it, but he hasn't used it when he signed my papers."

"Well, I'm left-handed..."

"Yeah, I have noticed that, but it was different. I had the impression that he can't use it. I don't know... could be broken, I couldn't see, he had a large coat on."

"I don't know, Astrid... I have an eerie feeling about it. Can't you just skip the meeting?"

"And risk everything we have worked so hard for? Hiccup... We are close, I know it, we only need one more chance to get the evidence. Maybe it's just some less serious stuff, like rescheduling my work hours or negotiating payments."

"There's nothing I can say that would make you change your mind, right?" He tried, but he knew she was persistent.

"I _know_ we are close. I'd hate myself if I gave up," she argued and he had to admit, she had a point, but he still wanted to make sure that she was safe.

"I'm not happy about you going there all alone. That place has a bad vibe."

"I agree, but..."

"You are stubborn," Hiccup interjected.

"Guilty as charged, but it's not necessarily a bad thing."

"I know, I'm just... I'm worried about you," he admitted softly.

"That's really nice of you," she thanked him and put her hand gently on his arm where she previously had hit him.

"That's what partners do," he mused while taking a good look at her hand on his arm.

"Tell you what, I'll call you as soon as I'm finished," she promised.

"Okay."

"I better get going," she said while standing up from the bench.

"Please, do call me," he emphasized.

"I will. But I can take care of myself. See you soon, Officer Haddock."

He dazedly looked in the direction she left until he felt Toothless's enthusiastic licks on his hand.

* * *

His stomach was in a knot until roughly three endless hours later he finally got a text from her.

"Can you come over to my place?" It said.

"On my way." He answered back plainly and rushed for the door.

When some half an hour later he parked in front of her house the sun was already setting. She opened the door when she heard his car and Stormfly darted out and disappeared somewhere in the growing darkness. She didn't seem to care.

"Thanks for coming over," she said quietly and escorted him inside. To say he was feeling nervous was an understatement, but he obediently followed her. She went to the living room and stopped in front of the couch.

"So... I need your help with something," she deadpanned and her unemotional tone disturbed him.

"Ask me anything," he said and he truly meant it. He would do anything for her. He took a step closer to her and reached for her hands, they felt cold.

"They want me..." she started but stopped for a moment when her voice trembled. "They want me to take off my bra... I've tried to gain some time, but they gave me an ultimatum, I either dance half-naked next time or there won't be a next time."

He felt the anger build up in him. "I hope you quit immediately." She freed her hands from his and turned her head away from him.

"I couldn't quit," she admitted, "we are so close. We have to give our theory a chance. I just got the news from the lab, it was blood on the swab."

He took a deep sigh before he tried to reason with her. "But no one expects you to do it. I'm sure Gobber wouldn't let you..."

"I don't want him to know about it. For the time being."

"So you have already decided on doing it?" he asked again.

"Yes," she answered simply and raised her head up to look him in the eyes.

"What can I do for you?" He whispered a long and hard moment later.

"I know it's a bit awkward," she started, "but... the thing is, I've never undressed before strangers and I'm not a hundred percent sure I can do it... I know we are technically not strangers, but... in a sense, we are."

He didn't say a word, he couldn't, so she continued. "Can you watch me do my act? It's only a few minutes but I have to know for sure that I am capable of doing it."

He took another deep breath before he dared to utter his question. "You mean... _right now_?"

* * *

**Just some quick notes: (0. **hope** you enjoyed the new chapter!) 1. sorry for the delay, life got in the way 2. I have to change the rating from T to M from the next chapter, it's going to be violent. 3. I'm not sure when I'll be able to post chapter 6, I'm aiming for two weeks from now 4. huge thanks for everyone who liked or reviewed it or reached out for me on **tumblr**. **


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